To whom it may concern,
This week like most has not disappointed me as far as entertainment goes. It started off with a traumatic mini-adventure. Having had a reasonably tame weekend, if you don’t count the particularly rowdy family night that definitely included some Sporcle Cricket trivia, I made a last minute decision to go out for St. Patrick’s Day! And after enduring a particularly long lecture I hopped on a bus at a bus stop I’d been utilising for the last 3 years. Till Monday any bus I’d gotten on always went via Newmarket to its destination. Turns out some of them just go straight to Otahuhu and I’d just been really lucky till that point. With my 10minutes journey home having turned into an hour long bus ride beside a scowling, moustached lady with mutton-chops that’d put most of the men I know to shame, I was in absolutely no mood to celebrate St. Patrick’s day. But like every good student of procrastination, I pulled myself up by the boot straps, donned my token green piece of clothing and headed over to my mate Tom’s place.
It was here that a few of the relatively sober guys decided to educate me on their experience with Tinder. For those of you above the age of “cool” and the technologically challenged Tinder is an app that syncs a few Facebook photos of choice, allows you to create a Bio of yourself and links you with fellow singles of your selected age-range in your vicinity. If you find that someone’s photo and bio to tingles your loins you swipe right and if you don’t, left. If they also find you to be the Cat’s Meow, tinder will “match” you up and you can chat to them.
One of the guys had somehow racked up 230 matches. He sent one of his matches a message that read, “Hit me up with them digits gurl” and it worked. She hit him up. He decided to enlighten me to his “pulling” method, which only leads to me being more scarred than anything. He figures that most girls on Tinder are 1) good to go but also 2) constantly hit on because of the app’s popularity. Therefore he figured his slightly “forceful” technique of emulating 50 cent would make a change from the poor lads out their telling these girls they were beautiful. I then learnt of how my friend had so many matches that Tinder allowed him to make folders for them. He’d arranged them in order of hotness to increase efficiency. Fast forward to Friday night when he’d consumed a couple of beers and decided it’d be hilarious to dirty talk to the folder of girls he didn’t care about. Ladies form a line. Tinder can’t all bad, though, a friend’s older brother just moved in with his Tinder match of 5 months so there’s that. Plus abs pics and the guy that photoshopped himself on Miley Cyrus’ body on a cannonball. Keep grindin’ dude your soul mate is a swipe away. But its safe to say being enlightened to this guy’s folder method was a sufficient deterrent to Tinder and life in general.
Anyway, I definitely have an assignment due on Friday and instead have done a completely useless analysis of a dating/”friendship” app (stop lying to yourself).
Wish me luck kids,